2013.07.06 - Mister Cheng, I Presume
China. While travel advisories remain optimistic, there are a couple of organizations that try to hi-light the country's vast history of crime. Corruption. Other organizations try to make the fast buck and move on. And some others are entrenched in the goings on, falling deeper and deeper into the trap that is the Orient and seek to bring others down with them in order to make their own, private network. Shanghai. It's a name that has lots of connotations. Cultural hot spot. Place where one goes to disappear. It is the latter in which Mister Cheng is engaged. A man of indeterminate age, his expression, at the best of times, inscrutible. He wears the calm and patience of the ages upon his mien, and wears it well. It is for that alone that the younger 'upstarts' fear him. He has no fear. Those dark, almond eyes remain above that mortal emotion. Now, within a brightly appointed room that has no windows, and a single door, Mr. Cheng sits in waiting. His arms are crossed, and he leans forward with every move that the albino makes as she moves towards consciousness. He has no intention of speeding her on her way, far preferring the stirrings of awareness as it comes. It's a game he plays. Never. Trust. Anyone. Domino's last conscious thoughts involved drinking at a dive bar, an unlikely encounter with Deadpool, a conversation which dragged her down a few notches, to where she 'belonged,' then..nothing. It's a long time to be out cold but the beauty of unconsciousness is that one loses any sense of time and, frankly, doesn't care about how long something happens to take. Coming to, she already knows that she is somewhere she is not expecting to be. This is not one of her couches. It seems too clean to be one of Wade's. There's a scent in the air, however. A certain blend of exotic incense, a scent which she only personally knows from one source, anywhere on the world. "You could have called me and saved a lot of trouble." Pale blue eyes hold a slight pinkish tint from the aerosol agents that had coarsed through her lungs and put her under, the gaudy, overly red-adorned world around her coming into clarity. Before focus returns she's staring back at Cheng. "I know you're a fan of red, but Deadpool?" Ah... there she rises. The up-to-now silent Mister Cheng offers something of a shrug the moment he knows that she can see with any form of clarity. Not even a ghost of a smile appears in 'greeting' the pale-complected merc. Instead, it's a comment in response. "You didn't expect it. If you like, next time I will look for more subtlety." Now, the chinese 'businessman' rises from his seat looking as if he simply floats to his feet, the grace and experience of a fighter lending him the air of expending so little energy as he does so. "We have business, you and I." His accent is heavy, but it's obvious that he was educated 'in the West'. "Things have come up that are inconvenient for me." His eyes narrow, "Including the covering of small matters that may have seemed inconsequential to you, but have created some difficulties for me." "Next time I would prefer that you call me before things get dramatic," Dom says in a low tone while closing her eyes and lightly massaging her temple. (Still hung over. Can't have been out that long. Mental note: never mix high-yield knockout gas with a dozen shots.) With a drawn out breath she hefts herself upright then drops back into the couch, slouching in that 'I don't give a shit' way that teenagers are notoriously good at. Old haits die hard. "Well..seeing as I'm in no condition to walk my tiny white ass on out of here, tell me all about your 'inconveniences.' For the record, if you're looking to hire someone I wouldn't suggest kidnapping. Gets things off on the wrong foot." "I did get your attention. And I wasn't about to accept 'I'll get back to you', which some of your," there's a lazy flick of his wrist as Cheng looks for the word, "peers seem to enjoy saying. Just to flex their muscles." Turning about, he studies the form that is albino merc on his couch, and fixes his almond gaze there. "You came in to play in my neighborhood, Domino. And, everyone is whispering about it. Helping the American.. stealing food from workers' mouths." As they try to move a good bit of production to Indonesia. "Well.. if you are so keen to make a mark here, there's something that needs to be done." Beat. "In payment for the house cleaner's bill after you left." Now, Mister Cheng breaks his stare in order to look theatrically in the air, the tenor of his voice still so very level. "It's right up your alley, too. I believe that is the phrase? Doesn't have to be clean. It just has to be done." "Of course not," Domino mutters with a tired rolling of her eyes. "'Time is money, my time is more valuable than yours,' yadda." Then things take another turn. "Oh bull''shit!" the ghost of a woman suddenly blurts out, quickly leaning forward to glare at the room's other occupant. "I passed through, I took care of another matter, I left. I borrowed ''three fucking guns, Cheng! If you're hurting so badly at your own game then I'll give you market value for the damned things, but stop wasting my time! I was done here, you're the one that decided to haul me on back." Well, Cheng, and Fury. He doesn't need to know about that part. "Then go send one of your starving lackeys to deal with it, Jesus! Did you already forget about the time I pulled your ass out of the fryer in Tianjin? Three guns, Cheng. Three." Inscrutable. There now comes, however, a ghost of a smile as the merc rises in anger, lashing out at him. As far as he's concerned, he's won the game. Now, now he's going to take his spoils. Softly, as if he's addressing an errant child on the rampage, Mister Cheng sounds all-patient. "Three guns of mine. Hospitality only goes so far in my country, Domino. Now, I expect something in return." Turning about, the tenor of his voice hardens, though his voice doesn't raise beyond that hint of a whisper. "Your tantrums may work everywhere else, but not with me. You will do as I say," and he holds a hand up, three fingers showing, "And I have three targets. One for each of the guns.. and two jobs. Thanks to your indescretions." When met with Tianjin, however, Mister Cheng actually sounds angry.. for a moment. "You were lucky. Luckier than I had dreamed of, and luckier than Xian's men knew." His jaw tightens, the muscle of his cheek twitching as he reins in the anger. "You will do this, and you will use the armament I give you." It's usually a good idea to compose one's self a little better than this. Today, Domino doesn't give a damn. This isn't a job. She isn't going to get paid for her time. She's being pressured into returning a favor, one which she doesn't see as being anywhere near fair. Add in Cheng's usual smug attitude? She could just rip his face off. Then again, she could also grin in triumph when she strikes a nerve with Tianjin. (Take that, you cheeky bastard.) "Your country sucks," she reviles in a low tone. "Expect whatever the hell you want, I'm not your puppet to control and I am not gunning down three people over a simple hardware loan. Find someone else to handle your shit." Headache or not the woman pulls herself off of the couch, shameless in turning her back on Cheng as she starts to see herself to the door. Should she bother shooting Deadpool over this..? It was just a paying gig. He was even gentle about it. Still, he went against her. Shoot, no. Punch in the face, yes. "Xinjiang." The word is the name of a province where Chinese forces fight upstarts here and there. Innocents and murderers are lumped into the same category, and marked to die. It's also the name of a place where one can be buried so deeply, there is just no digging oneself out for many, many, many years. It's bloody, brutal.. And a quiet threat. "Your life will be measured in hours. Minutes." Cheng shrugs lightly, and there's a malevolent gleam in those dark eyes. "I know it sounds trite, but here? In China?" It's very real. "You do this job, and you even the score with me, and you deal a blow to the provincial police. Could give them difficulties enough that they neglect to witness your departure." It is possible to verbally slap someone across the face. It's also possible to do so subtly, and with a single word. Domino's jaw tenses as her retreat slows to a halt. She's done work in Xinjiang before. On a good day, fully kitted out, skill alone won't keep a person alive out there. It had been ugly. It also wasn't the only time that she started to create a bad reputation around this country. Turns out they aren't so keen on having high profile authorities getting assassinated. Even less when it's handled by some ignorant American foreigner. Even without mentioning Xinjiang Cheng has sufficient amounts of dirt on her to know what would happen if word of her return got out to the right individuals. Here she stands, completely stripped of her gear and cash. No hope of reaching a safehouse to rearm, certainly not without digging herself into an even deeper hole. It's always tough to come to terms with being backed into a corner. "It sounds like you're a jackass," she corrects on a low, even, and profoundly dangerous tone. "I do this for you and we're square. Nothing left outstanding." What she really wants to say is 'I never want to hear your name again,' but she would end up losing more than he would. A (very loose) contact, access to supplies and safehouses, even transportation. If she throws that away she'll have nothing at all to fall back on in this country. As it stands such favors come with fairly significant catches involved, but it's still better than nothing. And damn Cheng for knowing it, too. Three guns. Three targets. Three big ticket items from her. It's one heck of a pot. In Xinjiang, if it's not the populous, it's the police. If it's not the police, it's the criminals in all forms. Which does include the police, the politicians and the populous. The government in Beijing doesn't have a hope in hell of containing it, so the next best thing seems to be walling it up (figuratively) and letting them kill themselves. A pleased expression flickers across the face of Mister Cheng, and he inclines his head as it's canted slightly. A modest winner? Hell no. He's enjoying this too much. "No one left standing." A play on words in echo to Domino's own 'demands'. More like 'request' as far as it goes when it reaches Cheng's ears. "Once it's done, you depart." His version of 'get the hell out of my country'. Already narrow eyes turn slimmer. "Man, wife and son." "No." Domino has no counter-offer. Nothing left to gamble with, for the moment. But she is not letting Cheng dictate her life, or her business, as much as he seems to want to. Turning around to fix that icy stare of hers upon the man once more, she corrects "Once it's done you leave me the hell alone. This is not your country. I'm not going to run with my tail between my legs just because I might happen to cramp your fucking style." He wants to throw his weight around? Fine. But she's not going to stop taking jobs here because of the guy. He doesn't have that level of control over her. She'll kill him herself before he does. So, she plays the odds once more. "Three targets, you get off my back, we return to business as usual. You're not going to get any better of a deal." "You're wrong.. it is my country." This is riled in the face of a difficult mercenary now. His tones remain low, and dangerous sounding, but there's something that lies within. A warning. Seconds after, rapidfire chinese fills the room; probably venting all his frustrations, irritations and annoyances about the albino all in that one seemingly incoherent rant. He pauses after the last bit, and Mister Cheng pulls down on his jacket to straighten it, a visual representation of his returning to a certain calmness. "Three targets. Man. Wife. Son." The last two are given with something of a smirk. "Man is Chang Duh. He is a computer systems manager for a small company. His wife and son." Domino suddenly grins back at the man, an expression which is completely filled with malice. "Didn't see your name on it." (Go ahead and rant, you sonuvabitch. Now I get to be the smug one.) Oh, fudge. A family hit? She doesn't need to ask to know that this is a personal matter. Cheng really is throwing her right into his own business. She's not at all comforted by this knowledge. But, there's only one way left for her to get through all of this. She's not going to give him the satisfaction of watching her hesitate. She wants him to be afraid. To know she's worthy of the respect he's not been giving to her. "Get me the info and the gun. In less than twenty four hours we'll be back to pretending that we're friends. Oh, and I want my gear back. All of it." Cheng stares at the smile.. and that look lingers. She's a crazy bitch.. is that first thought that creeps into his head after it's all said and done. "I'll be glad to be rid of you. Out of the country. Gone. Good bye." He stops at 'good luck', however. Crazy people in his culture are, well.. to be left alone. "You'll have the information by nightfall. You'll be my guest here until you do the job. Once that is complete, you are on your own." Cheng inclines his head and walks purposefully towards the door. "Your room is upstairs. To gain access to your weapons, you will need to finish my requests first. The guns you will use for that can be found in your room." Here, Cheng turns about and looks directly at the albino merc, "Those weapons you are NOT to use for any other purpose. If they are, you will find that Chinese prisons are preferable to where you will spend your days." "A thousand times back atcha, buddy," Domino replies in a level tone. Cheng's not getting rid of her that easily. She goes where she pleases. She does what she wishes. If this proves to be too much for him? Mister Cheng will be the next name on her list. Sitrep: Everyone's pissed off. Three people that probably don't deserve to have someone like her going after them are about to bite bullets. She has to use the supplied weapons, which means she's being used to set someone else up to take the fall (talk about outsourcing...) On top of that, she's a 'guest' at Cheng's very own home. Golly, what are the odds of her happening across some incriminating evidence on the guy while she's here? "You'd better not harm a single spring on my girls or there's gonna be hell to pay," she warns Cheng on his way out in what might almost seem like a teasing jest. She's happy to let him leave first, too. There's still a lot of fog to clear out of her head. And a lot of plans to make. Moments later... Alone in the room, Domino finds the materials in question. The weapons. The info. She's careful not to get her own prints all over everything while reaching for the file, splitting it open to a collection of printed images marking the three targets in question. Husband. Wife. Their early twenties-something son. Simple. Familiar. Straightforward. With a twist. The husband's picture makes her stop short, staring into the pixelated likeness of Chang Duh. Staring. And laughing. Already she can see the pieces starting to align themselves before her. What are the odds of Chang Duh being the very same man that Fury ordered her to eliminate? Category:Log